I Tried to Carry the Weight of the World
by openPandora'sBox
Summary: Oliver leaves Starling City in the wake of Tommy's death, the Glades being destroyed, and his mother's arrest. Months later, Felicity finds him in Bangkok, Thailand, but she's not there to bring him back. She's there to help him.
1. Chapter 1

_The rating should tell you where this is ultimately going. __All I ask is that nobody shoot me._**  
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_Chapter 1_

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Felicity jolted awake, heart beating rapidly and breath coming hard and fast. She sat up too quickly and her head spun from the sudden movement. Her skin was sticky with sweat, making her thin t-shirt cling to her back, her chest, her stomach – it was soaked through, but instead of chilling her heated skin, it only succeeded in making her hotter.

The heat in Bangkok was oppressive even at night, the humidity making everything about ten times worse, and whatever respite she thought darkness would bring from the scorching sun never came.

Or maybe I blinked and I missed it, Felicity thought bitterly as she pulled her long hair off the back of her neck and piled it on top of her head, holding it in place with one hand as she fanned the nape of her neck in an attempt to cool down. The old fan she'd bought from a 'shop' (it really was far too generous a term for the hole-in-the-wall place) a few alleys over had broken down two nights ago and she refused to pay through the nose just to have another fan die on her.

Swinging her legs over the side of her small bed, Felicity forced herself to take slower breaths. Head bowed, hands holding on to the edge of the thin mattress, her hair arranged itself in a long cascade over her shoulders and along the side of her face. She was too tired to bother holding it back again and too lazy to search for the hair tie she'd earlier tossed onto the chair she was using as a nightstand. The sounds of wild dogs and old scooters flowed in through her open window and not for the first time Felicity wondered if she wasn't just wasting her time searching the city for a man who clearly didn't want to be found. Maybe she'd well and truly lost touch with reality. Maybe she didn't really know him as well as she thought she did.

A shuffling sound from the corner of her room had Felicity's head snapping up and her hand reaching under her pillow. A tall figure stepped out of the darkness, hands raised, and into the weak light coming in through her open window.

"Oliver," Felicity breathed. Her fingers relaxed around the hilt of the knife Diggle had given her and made her promise to keep under her pillow, but she didn't let go.

Oliver's eyes flickered between her pillow and her face and Felicity forced her expression to remain neutral despite the immediate sense of bone deep relief she felt at his presence. He finally met her gaze, his face tired instead of stony, and his eyes too weary to hide anything. Felicity could read the questions in them. She could make out the apprehension there too as clearly as though the light illuminating his face were bright sunlight instead of the tired light of the dead of night.

"How'd you get in here?" Felicity figured she'd start with the easy questions instead of the ones that had been burning holes into her stomach for the past few months.

"Your window was open," Oliver replied quietly, his tone even and calm. Too even and too calm, and again, Felicity could read far more in his voice in those few words than she'd been able to in all the months they'd worked together.

"I'm three stories up."

Oliver cocked his head to the side, eyebrows raised slightly as if to suggest she'd insulted him by supposing a mere three stories would do anything other than make him breath moderately harder than normal.

She shrugged in reply. "This place is a sauna. I would have melted otherwise."

Shaking his head, he finally lowered his hands and took a step closer. Dressed in a grey tank and black cargo pants, Oliver looked unbothered by the sweltering humidity. She figured that had a lot to do with spending five years unable to do anything but withstand it without hope of any reprieve. Not even from an overpriced and mostly broken down fan.

Her room was small enough that two steps in, he was standing directly in front of her and it made Felicity want to kick herself for being so wrapped up in nightmares that she hadn't noticed another person in her bedroom. Had it been anyone other than Oliver, not even Diggle's knife would have been enough to save her.

Oliver lowered himself to sit beside her, the mattress sagging further under his weight, creaking slightly as he pulled himself right to its edge and fixed his gaze on the cracks running up and down the opposite wall. Clad only in a thin t-shirt and cotton shorts, Felicity supposed she should have felt practically naked next to him, but her mind was working a mile a minute having never actually expected to find him let alone having him show up in her room well after midnight.

Felicity watched him out of the corner of her eye, determined to wait him out, to get him to break the heavy silence between them. With what, she didn't exactly know. She hadn't come looking for an apology. She hadn't even come to bring him back. If she were being completely honest with herself, the only real reason she'd travelled all the way to Bangkok and had taken up residence in a dilapidated hostel in a rundown part of the city had been to make sure he was still alive.

And he was. She could see it now for herself. Oliver Queen had stood in front of her, had spoken to her, and had even shown some semblance of a sense of humour. Now, seated beside her, she could feel the heat coming off of him. His shoulder had brushed against her when he'd sat down and there had been such a familiar solidness to him that her breath had hitched and she'd hoped, in the split second it had taken him to pull away, that he hadn't noticed.

But it wasn't enough, she discovered. She wanted to believe what her eyes saw and what her ears heard, but there was this ridiculously irrational part of her that demanded a sure-fire reassurance that the man seated and sweating next to her was in fact the Oliver Queen who'd left Starling City months ago with nothing more than some money thrown her way. He'd called it a severance package. She'd called it fear. She supposed she'd also come to Thailand to tell him that.

The fingers of the hand that lay between them tightened along the edge of the mattress before she shifted her hand closer to Oliver. She lost the nerve to actually reach out and touch him a mere inch away from his thigh. The mattress creaked again as he she felt him move on the bed. She felt the warmth of his hand settle over hers. His fingers curled into her palm, his thumb over the back of her hand.

"You're a jerk," she declared quietly, eyes tracing one large crack from floor to ceiling. The bed shifted and she assumed Oliver had turned to face her. She couldn't do the same, but she snuck a quick glance out of the corner of her eye and caught him as he was turning back to face the wall again. The mattress dipped again and Felicity finally released the knife she'd been holding since he'd appeared. She pulled her hand out from under the pillow and used it to pull sweat-soaked strands of hair away from her face.

"And don't expect me to launch into an awkward ramble filled with caveats and addendums all about how that wasn't what I'd meant to say because it is what I meant to say." Oliver's fingers tightened around her hand as she spoke, but he made no other attempt to reply. Felicity sighed, tilting her head back to towards the ceiling. "You just," she paused, lips pursed as she forced more calm than she felt into her tone, "left. You just left. And there are people who care about you and worry about you and depend-" his fingers tighten almost painfully around hers at that, but Felicity went on,"-on you, and you just walked away from all of them."

She sucked in a breath. She wasn't being fair. She knew she wasn't being fair. But they had all suffered that night and yet Oliver was the only one who'd not only fled the city, but the country. The continent even.

"You here to bring me back?"

Felicity shook her head slowly. "Would you come back even if I asked you to?"

A beat. A pause, then, "No."

The word hung between them in the stifling darkness. A dog howled somewhere outside her window and a car backfired as if in response. A bead of sweat rolled down Felicity's spine and she tried to lightly shrug off the uncomfortable sensation.

"I came to help you." Felicity hadn't realised how completely true that was until she'd said the words aloud, "even though you're the jerk who left without so much as a goodbye or a note saying where you were running off to. Did you think we wouldn't get it, that we wouldn't understand everything that you'd been through and what it meant? That we wouldn't want to help?"

She could no longer sit still. Pulling her hand free, she stood up and paced to the other side of the room before turning around. "Okay, now you really need to say something because I've gone and done that thing where I ramble incessantly and you're just staring off into the distance."

Oliver rubbed a tired hand over his face and continued to look anywhere but at her.

Felicity swallowed heavily, absently rubbing the hand Oliver had been holding earlier with the other. "You're supposed to be mad. You're supposed to tell me that I can't possibly understand what you've been through and you'd be right – I can't. I absolutely I can't because it's so far out of the realm of anything anyone could ever imagine happening as part of our daily scheduled programming that there is no manual for handling this."

Felicity forced herself to slow down and take a breath. She imagined Oliver tilting his head at her in amusement as he used to – imagined that knowing smile that would play at the corner of his lips as he listened to her talk herself into corners and then back out of them. She imagined those things because Oliver had fixed his gaze on those cracks behind her and it looked like he was hell bent on memorising every one.

She stepped in front of them, forcing Oliver to at least look up in the direction of her face. "I don't need to understand to know that you're hurting or to want to help you," she said quietly. Stepping forward towards him again, she watched Oliver's shoulders rise and fall as he took a slow shuddering breath. "Let me help you."

Her eyes widened as she watched Oliver reach out for her bare leg, his fingers pressing into the back of her knee so lightly she'd think she was imagining it if she weren't watching it happen. Oliver shifted his gaze away from the wall and to her face.

"There's a part of me that wants to shove you onto the next flight out of here." He started rubbing circles onto her knee with his thumb much as he'd done earlier on the back of her hand.

"You can try." Her voice sounded hoarse even to her own ears.

He smiled for the first time at her words. It was small and it didn't reach his eyes – barely more than a small uptick at the corners of his lips – but it was there and Felicity felt that ever present tightening in her chest ease just a little.

"I could," he answered thoughtfully, that small smile melting into his voice. "I'd fail, though." His head tilted to one side as he studied her. "Wouldn't I?"

Felicity nodded.

He released a breath through his nose, eyes sliding shut, shoulders relaxing into a slouch. Felicity could read exhaustion in every hard line of his body. She felt a sudden urge to reach down and smooth the worried crease between his eyebrows down with her thumb. She dug her nails into her palms to keep them firmly at her sides.

"There's a bigger part of me that's selfish. That part of me wants you stay." He opened his eyes to look at her. His thumb continued drawing maddening circles against her heated skin. Another trickle of sweat slid down her spine and Felicity couldn't tell whether her shiver was as a result of that or Oliver's fingers playing along the back of her knee.

Determinedly, she pushed aside her confusion at his unexpectedly tactile response. "You know I'm always willing to help you. You knew that even before you wrote me a cheque for a million dollars and ran away to Thailand."

Oliver steadied his gaze. "Do you want me to apologise for trying to do what I failed at the first time – keeping you safe?

Felicity breathed in sharply. Eyes closing, she let out a slow breath. "I don't want you to apologise for anything." Eyes opening, she fixed him with an equally steady gaze, bending down slightly so that he couldn't look away. "I'm a big girl. What happens to me is on me not on you."

"It's not that simple."

"It is that simple," Felicity insisted. "It will always be that simple if you have even one shred of the amount of respect for me that I have for you."

"Felicity-"

"Tell me that's not why you're here," Felicity interrupted. "Tell me that this isn't even partly about me being at Verdant the night the Glades were destroyed? Because if it is, even if it's like 10% of the reason why you left, I'm telling you right now, no."

"No?"

"Absolutely not. I'm not going to let you feel guilty about that. In fact, I'm telling you right now that you're not allowed to feel guilty about it."

"Just like that?"

"Yes." Felicity placed her hands on his shoulders and squeezed. "Look at me, Oliver. I'm here. I'm alive. I'm okay. There is absolutely nothing wrong with me that wasn't wrong with me before you showed up at my desk with a bullet-riddled laptop and a bad lie."

She felt his shoulders lift as he took a long breath at her words, holding it in for a few seconds – she swore she heard him mutter a five-count – before slowly letting it out and letting his shoulders fall. His grip tightened on her leg. Not painfully, but almost as though he were reassuring himself that what she was saying was true – she was there, she was real, and that she really was okay. Something clicked into place for Felicity in that moment and suddenly the room seemed to shrink around them.

"You want to help?" Oliver's voice sounded smaller, almost unsure, and Felicity pressed down on his shoulders. He cleared his throat.

"Yes."

"Got any plans tomorrow morning?"

"I guess I do now."

Oliver chuckled softly, shaking his head and pushing himself up off the bed. His hand left her knee, but she could still feel the ghost of it against her skin like a brand. Her hands dropped from his shoulders and tangled themselves in the hem of her t-shirt. He looked at her like he wanted to say something more. She looked at him like she was expecting it, but he only squeezed her upper arms lightly and stepped around her. She turned to watch him.

"Felicity?" He was climbing back out of her window and she wanted to roll her eyes at his inability to use the door like a normal person.

"Yeah?"

"Those nightmares you're having?"

Felicity sucked in a sharp breath and he took that as affirmation of his suspicions.

"If I'm not allowed to feel guilty then neither are you."

Felicity wanted to laugh it off, wanted to at least smile and tell him she was fine, that nightmares were normal and that they weren't a sign of any guilt she may or may not have been feeling, but her chest had tightened almost painfully and all she could do was nod in response.

"I guess we'll both have to work on that."

And he was gone.

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_Feedback is love._


	2. Chapter 2

_I am overwhelmed and humbled by your lovely responses. Thank you. I can only hope that this continues to live up to your expectations. _

_No pressure..._

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_Chapter 2_

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Oliver met her outside of her hostel the next morning. Leaning casually against the wall to one side of the door, he lifted a steaming styrofoam cup to her face before she'd had so much as a chance to mutter a greeting.

The aroma of coffee wafted to her nose as Felicity gingerly accepted the cup. She narrowed her eyes down at the brown liquid before casting a questioning look at Oliver. "I've been duped by coffee in this city already. Are you trying to get out of explaining what you're doing here by poisoning me?"

She couldn't see his eyes behind his large aviator sunglasses, but his lips quirked up into a smirk and he replied, "Drink it."

Wary, Felicity took a careful sip. She had to bite back a moan as the familiar flavour of good coffee swept across her tongue.

"Where did you find this magical elixir of the Gods?" She asked after taking a larger sip.

Oliver looked pleased with himself as he pushed away from the wall and, with a hand on her lower back, led Felicity to a motorcycle resting on its kickstand a few feet away. He lowered his mouth to her ear. "I've got connections."

Felicity swallowed another mouthful and sighed before frowning down into the already half-empty cup. "Do you know what the saddest part about this is?"

Oliver quirked a questioning eyebrow at her.

"This might only be mediocre coffee, but I've been so deprived since I got here that I may no longer be able to tell the difference between actually good coffee and coffee that only seems good because I've gone without for so long."

"Felicity," Oliver held out a helmet and motioned for her to put it on, "you've been here a week."

"Hey, when you're used to drinking three cups of the good stuff a day, being deprived of it for even a week is nothing short of torture." She gazed into the bottom of her now empty cup wistfully before glancing around for a trash can. Settling for crumpling up the cup and stashing it in the messenger bag hanging at her side, she took the proffered helmet from Oliver, but instead of putting it on she held it against her stomach with both hands.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" Felicity asked.

Oliver gracefully lifted a leg up and over the bike. Turning in his seat, he held a hand out to help her onto the bike behind him. Felicity held onto her helmet and waited for a response instead.

Lowering his hand when he realised she was serious, he guided her around to stand in front of the bike with a hand on her hip. Placing his hands on the handlebars, he raised his head to her and explained, "I have to find the man who trained Malcolm Merlyn."

"Oh. What?" Felicity frowned and shook her head. "I mean, why and how? The 'how' of this endeavour is intriguing given that I doubt you've had too many heart-to-hearts with Malcolm Merlyn where you told him your Karate Kid story and he returned the favour thus giving you a starting point for this investigation, but mostly I'm interested in the 'why' of it all."

Oliver looked at her over the rim of his sunglasses. "Do you think he was born with those archery skills?"

"Of course not, but people learn archery every day and most of them aren't taught by nefarious evil-doers hiding out in the slums of Bangkok."

"After the death of his wife, Malcolm Merlyn disappeared for two years. Tommy told me he'd spent them in Tibet learning from a man there, but I've been to Nanda Parbat. The man who taught Malcolm? Not there anymore. He disappeared shortly after Malcolm returned to Starling City. That doesn't seem slightly suspicious to you?"

Felicity shifted from foot to foot, hugging the helmet closer as Oliver's eyes went hard. "Well, yeah. But just because Malcolm took a left into Crazytown doesn't necessarily mean that his instructor was the mayor."

Oliver's grip on the handlebars tightened, his knuckles going white. "I just have a feeling that there's more to this whole thing than Malcolm talking a group of Starling City's richest and most powerful people into destroying a part of their own city," he responded firmly.

Felicity took a breath and a second to just look at him. He'd changed his grey tank from the night before to a white t-shirt, but the black cargo pants remained. His hair was still cut short (she couldn't help but wonder where he'd been getting cut), but his stubble seemed a shade or two darker, as though he'd simply forgotten to shave that morning and possibly the one before it. It disguised the line of his jaw, but Felicity was familiar enough with him to know that he was practically grinding his teeth together; that underneath the shadows on his face, his muscles were clenched and his jaw was working overtime. Tension radiated off of him in every hard line of his body from the white-knuckled grip he maintained on the motorcycle's handlebars, to the set of his shoulders, and the furrows on his brow.

The sunlight glinting off of his dark lenses brought her attention back to his face and the clamour of the city around them had her stepping in closer, one hand reaching out to settle over Oliver's. "You're right." Was he? Or was she simply saying that because to say otherwise might send him speeding off and she might never see him again? Felicity shook those thoughts out of her head and went on, "It doesn't make complete sense and maybe we are missing something, but how do you know it has to do with whoever taught Malcolm to shoot an arrow?"

"Because nothing is ever given for free," Oliver answered quietly, so quietly that Felicity had to lean in to hear him as a bus rumbled by them and somewhere an irritated driver leaned on his horn. His voice was hard and sure. Felicity's stomach tightened. He was speaking from experience and the surety of that thought made her sick. "If someone taught Malcolm how to take revenge then he gave them something back in return. I need to know what that is."

Felicity swallowed heavily, the coffee threatening to rebel in her stomach along with her meager breakfast. She nodded and without another word shoved the helmet onto her head, wincing slightly as the coiled bun she'd arranged at the back of her head tugged against her scalp.

Adjusting her bag to fall against the small of her back, she used Oliver's hand for balance and straddled the bike behind him. Her arms wrapped around his waist as the bike roared to life beneath them. She pressed herself closer to Oliver's back as he rolled back on the throttle and accelerated into traffic.

Felicity found she could enjoy the city from a new perspective as they raced through it. The narrow uneven roads of her district slowly gave way to smoother, wider streets as gleaming buildings of glass and steel rose up around them. Felicity lifted her head from Oliver's back to gaze in wonder at the parts of the city she'd been too preoccupied to visit; shopping malls, restaurants, and brightly coloured signs in Thai and English lit up every corner of each busy street they sped down. People poured from the sidewalks at every crosswalk and the more they drove, the more varied the sights became.

Golden-spired temples were interspersed amongst modern buildings, their white faces gleaming brightly against the darker contemporary architecture. Lush green gardens gave way to cement walkways and bustling markets, and when Felicity bent her head around Oliver to gaze in front she could see where the network of expressways met at a single point to merge onto the bridge that would take them over the Chao Phraya River.

For the first time since she'd arrived In Bangkok, she didn't feel weighed down by nightmares, didn't feel wracked with guilt, and her stomach wasn't coiled with worry about never finding Oliver. Even the heat and humidity wasn't as oppressive as the wind whipped across her bare arms and legs. Her tank top felt dry on her skin as it hadn't felt in days and her denim shorts weren't sticking against her thighs. Resting her chin on Oliver's shoulder, she simply enjoyed the view as they raced out of the city.

Felicity barely noticed when Oliver began slowing down, but he'd brought them to what seemed like a standstill given their previous speed as the roads began to narrow again, becoming bumpier and harder to navigate. Eventually they could go no further and Oliver stopped the bike altogether. Wondering how much time had passed since they'd begun their little trip, Felicity glanced at Oliver's large-faced wristwatch and was surprised to see that they'd spent nearly an hour on the road.

Oliver held out his hand to help Felicity off the bike. "We walk from here."

Felicity looked around at the multitudes of stalls selling everything from kitchen wares to food to objects she couldn't even begin to identify. The colourful canopies of every storefront were held up by long wooden poles stuck haphazardly into the dirt ground. A set of train tracks separated the market in half with the stalls on either side facing inward.

"Where's here?" She asked as she spun around in a slow circle to take everything in. Oliver took the helmet from her hands and hung it from one handlebar.

"Samut Songkhram or Mae Klong as I'm told the locals call it."

Felicity cocked her head at him. "Unfortunately, that tells me nothing."

"Small province outside of Bangkok," Oliver took her hand as he spoke and led her deeper into the bustling street market. They walked along the train tracks and followed the crowd.

Felicity reached up to rearrange the mess of hair that had once been a precisely coiled arrangement. Pulling the hair tie out, she grimaced in pain as it caught on a knot she had to undo with her fingers. She shook her hair out as they walked, already regretting the way it immediately stuck to the back of her neck. Making quick work of piling it back on top of her head, she caught Oliver eyeing her as she coiled her long ponytail back into a bun.

"What?" She asked self-consciously.

Oliver shook his head at her in amusement and continued guiding her with his hand at the small of her back. "Nothing."

"Oliver Queen."

A man fell into step beside them and Felicity stumbled in surprise, a yelp catching in her throat. A strong hand on her arm caught her and steadied her, but didn't let go once she'd straightened. She nodded at Oliver in wordless thanks before looking beyond him at the man now walking casually alongside them.

"And you brought a friend. How ill-advised."

It was impossible to tell whether he was being sarcastic or not. His tone was neutral, his voice even – he spoke with barely any inflection at all. He didn't even speak English with an accent though he looked Thai.

He looked like a local. The baseball cap he wore high up on his forehead bore a logo for a team Felicity didn't recognise. His t-shirt was clean, but faded, the large logo on its front having long since peeled off to leave only a shadow where it had once been. His shorts were baggy and his sandaled feet barely kicked up any dust as they walked.

The man continued speaking, hands in his pockets as though he were simply going out for a stroll, "People are beginning to notice you, Oliver Queen."

Oliver's hand tightened reflexively around her arm. "That was the point." He relaxed his grip and slid his hand down to hers. Rather than being a comfort, it felt more like he was making sure she stayed firmly at his side in the mess of the crowds in case they needed to run. Her stomach tightened into knots and she clutched at the strap of her bag with her free hand.

"Well, unfortunately, you're going about it in all the wrong ways and the wrong people are taking note."

"Wrong ways?"

"Oh yes. Night time ambushes. Violent interrogation techniques. Someday, maybe, you and I will talk about where you developed your skills," he turned slightly to fix his dark eyes on Oliver for a moment, "and from whom, but right now I'm primarily concerned with your chances of surviving to see the next sunrise." He looked away again, nodding at a shopkeeper as they passed another stall.

Felicity stole a glance at Oliver and could see corded muscles pop in his neck. His expression remained blank, giving nothing else away, but she hadn't expected that to get a rise out of him.

It had gotten a rise out of her, however. Her insides had turned to ice at the man's words. Not for the first time Felicity was left wondering exactly what Oliver had been doing all these months he'd been alone and how he'd known to come here.

"I wanted answers," Oliver replied calmly. "I got them."

"Did you? And what answers do you think you were given by a man afraid for his own life?"

"You're here, aren't you?"

"I am." He looked around Oliver to Felicity this time and she had to fight the urge to squirm under his gaze. "Is he always this goal-oriented?"

She looked between him and Oliver, her eyes wide. "I don't know how I should answer that."

"Don't," Oliver insisted at the same time as the other man said, "Honestly." He smiled at her and it made the skin around his eyes crinkle.

"You know what?" Felicity used her free hand to gesture between the two men. "I'm going to let you two figure this out and I'm just going to listen for now. You know, gather data. Examine my options. That sort of thing."

He tilted his head in acknowledgement and faced forward again. "You would do well to follow your friend's example, Oliver Queen."

Oliver opened his mouth to reply, but the man suddenly stopped walking and turned to face one of the many stalls. It was run by a young woman who bowed her head at them politely before pointedly looking away. Felicity frowned.

The man picked up a small wooden box delicately carved with Thai script. The wood was dark, polished to a shine, and on top there was a small metal clasp holding the two halves of the hinged top section together. He held it out to Felicity, beckoning for her to take it. Felicity eyed him warily, but reached out to pick it up from his outstretched palm nonetheless.

It was heavier than it looked and Felicity couldn't help but widen her eyes in surprise. She released Oliver's hand to flick open the clasp and see what was inside. It was empty.

"A souvenir," the man said when she raised her head with a question on her lips. He handed the woman at the stall a few coloured notes in exchange for the box before Felicity could stop him.

Oliver stepped between them and stared down at the smaller man who looked up at him entirely nonplussed. "Let's cut the crap."

"Alright, Oliver Queen," he reached up to adjust the brim of his cap, pulling it down more snugly over his head, "let's do that. Let us cut through the crap, as you Americans love to say, and get right down to what's important."

He stepped forward into Oliver's personal space and suddenly there was nothing casual about him. In a split second he had gone from looking like an average local to looking as though the height and size difference between he and Oliver would do no more to hinder him in a fight than a fly on his shoe.

"You're lucky, Oliver Queen, that I was here to find you," he said the words so quietly that Felicity had to strain to hear him over the noise around them.

"Why is that?" Oliver asked coldly.

"Because you're reckless and it's going to get you killed." He glanced over at Felicity before turning his attention back over to Oliver. "It's going to get her killed too."

"Not if I get to them first."

The man laughed. Fully tipped his head back and laughed. "You truly believe it's that easy?"

"I do."

"That's because you don't know who you're dealing with."

"Then tell me."

The man shook his head, not in denial but in disbelief. Somewhere, someone was sharply blowing a whistle and Felicity turned her head to try and hear where it was coming from.

Oliver cocked an eyebrow at him. "You wanted me to be more like her, right? Wanted me to collect data and examine my options? Then give me something to work with."

"You want answers?"

"I want answers."

"I'll give you one."

"I can work with that."

All around them shopkeepers had begun pulling up poles and folding their stall canopies back until they cleared the train tracks. Felicity looked around in confusion as the market goers cleared the tracks as well. Behind them, the young woman at the stall with the wooden boxes tapped her on the shoulder and said something in Thai that Felicity couldn't understand.

"I don't have an arrow pointed at my heart, so you'll know I'm telling the truth." The man tilted his head mockingly.

Oliver's eyes narrowed. "Let's say I believe you."

Felicity looked to one side as the whistles grew louder. A train was now coming around a bend and they were still standing in the middle of the tracks. She tugged at the back of Oliver's shirt, but it was like attempting to move a brick wall with one finger.

"In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter what you believe, Oliver Queen. What matters is that your rich businessmen were pawns in a greater game - your mother too. She took the fall. They all fell, so that others might rise up to take their place." He cocked his head at Oliver as he stepped backwards to the other side of the train tracks. "It's a shame about your friend, though. He wasn't supposed to die."

Felicity managed to hold Oliver back from lunging forward. She even succeeded in pulling him back to one side of the tracks. A few moments later, the oncoming train passed between them and the man on the other side.

"There's your answer, Oliver Queen. Make good use of it," he managed to yell out before the train hid him from view and drowned out his voice.

It didn't take the long for the short passenger train to make its way past them, but by the time it had cleared the tracks and stall owners were resetting their canopies, the man had disappeared into the crowd.

"Shit!" Oliver exploded. He spun around, head turning rapidly to check in every direction, hoping to catch some glimpse of the other man, but amidst the chaos of the market it was impossible. He raised his hands to his head, running them over his hair angrily before curling them into fists at his side.

Felicity remained quiet, the wooden box heavy in her hand as the man's words echoed over and over in her mind. She stuffed the box into her bag and tried to push his voice out of her head. It churned up too many feelings she'd been trying to bury for months. Oliver's firm hand on her arm grabbed her attention and turned her towards him.

"We have to go," he said sharply and before Felicity could reply began walking back in the direction they'd come from. He was all but dragging her behind him until she protested and managed to shake herself loose from his grip. Oliver mumbled an apology and Felicity raced to keep up with him as his long strides outpaced her shorter ones.

By the time they'd reached the bike again, Felicity was out of breath, but she stopped Oliver by grabbing his hand, forcing him to turn around and face her – forcing him to talk to her.

"What are you going to do?" She couldn't help the worried tone of her voice or the way her stomach clenched as possibilities began running through her mind like high speed film.

"I'm going to find them and I'm going to stop them," Oliver replied coldly. He'd turned to stone again. The problem this time, Felicity knew, was that there were too many hairline cracks in this façade he was attempting to maintain. He was practically vibrating with tension.

"Oliver, stop. You don't even know who 'they' are."

"I'm going to find out."

"Would you stop and think about what you're saying," Felicity exclaimed, throwing up her hands. Oliver moved almost too quickly for her to see. He stopped her talking with his hands on either side of her face.

"I have stopped to think about it." His voice was low and hoarse. His hands were shaking against her cheeks and Felicity wanted nothing more than to reach up and steady them, but she couldn't make herself move. She could only stare at him wide-eyed as his eyes roamed her face, desperation on his face like she'd never seen before.

"I've done nothing but think, Felicity, about everything I could have done differently. You heard him," he beckoned with his head back towards the market. "Tommy wasn't supposed to die."

"Oliver-"

Oliver went on as though she hadn't spoken. "He was right. I was supposed to be the one in that building. If I'd been faster, Tommy wouldn't be dead. If I'd figured out Malcolm's plan sooner, Tommy wouldn't be dead."

Felicity's fingers encircled Oliver's wrists and squeezed lightly, trying to get his attention. "Oliver. Listen to me."

He went still. His fingers pressed into her hair for a brief moment before he released her and Felicity was forced to let go of his wrists. He pulled a shaky hand over his face, taking deep breaths to calm his erratic breathing.

"I'm fine."

"You don't have to be fine," Felicity told him.

He turned steely eyes onto her. "No? Are you fine, Felicity?"

When she didn't respond, he grabbed the helmet with force and held it out to her before climbing onto the motorcycle. Without a word, she arranged herself behind him and waited for Oliver to start the engine.

The drive back wasn't nearly as relaxing as the drive there had been. Whereas their morning drive had given Felicity the opportunity to clear her mind and rid herself of some anxieties for at least a little while, her mind was now roiling with thoughts, words, and possibilities – most of them unpleasant.

If she were being completely honest, "fine" was exactly the word she would have used to describe herself – it was the only word she felt she could use. What other word described her as she went to work day after day on little or no sleep? She'd been afraid to go to sleep for months. Afraid of what she might see lurking in dreams or nightmares, and almost every morning since the night the Glades collapsed she'd been up before dawn waiting for the sun to rise and burn away the rumble of falling rock from her ears and the smell of dust and fire from her nose.

Her fingers tightened involuntarily into the hard muscles of Oliver's stomach and Felicity wanted to do nothing more than bury her head into his back and forget everything.

Forgetting, however, wasn't something she was good at. So with her mind working furiously regardless of how badly she wanted to turn it off and Oliver speeding down expressways and swerving through traffic at a breakneck pace, Felicity gave in and allowed her mind to do what it did best.

Once Oliver pulled the motorcycle to a stop in front of her hostel, Felicity didn't wait for him to help her off. She'd used their long drive back into Bangkok to develop a plan she was pretty proud of and she wanted to get started as quickly as possible, but first that meant changing out of her sweaty clothes and into at least a fresh tank top

She told Oliver as much as she wrenched off her helmet and walked quickly towards the main door.

"I can't do what I need to do with you here, Felicity."

Felicity stopped mid step. She remembered what the man had said about Oliver's nocturnal habits. In Starling City, she'd thought they'd moved past that, but it looked as though Oliver was only too ready and willing to fall back into old patterns.

She turned back around to face him. He hadn't moved from his seat on the bike.

"If I'm the only thing," she began slowly as she walked back towards him, "standing between you and something illegal, dangerous, and probably homicidal, then you've got very little hope that I'll be moving anytime soon."

"You'd protect them?"

"No, Oliver!" Felicity was incredulous. "I'm protecting you. I'm protecting you from doing something you'll regret because you are not this person you seem to think you are. You do a good imitation of it, but you're not nearly as impervious to the emotional consequences of your actions as you seem to think you are."

"I won't lose any sleep over this, trust me."

"I do, Oliver. I do trust you. And that's what worries me." Weariness came over her, as though her limbs were suddenly too heavy for her body to carry. It pulled her down, made her shoulders collapse and her head fall. When she raised it again, Oliver had that inscrutable look back on his face and Felicity was too tired to try and figure out what was happening behind those icy blue eyes.

"You worry me, Oliver," she declared softly. "You think that this is what you need to do to keep everyone safe and you refuse to listen when I tell you that if this is what it takes? If it takes you giving up every last ounce of goodness inside of you then I don't need you to do it. I don't want you to give that up in my name."

She moved to stand directly in front of him, pressing her face in close to his so that he couldn't look away from her. She could see his expression softening. Reaching blindly for his hand, she tangling her fingers with his, hoping that the contact would drive home her point.

"Everyone who loves you, who cares about you, all of them would tell you the same if they knew what you were prepared to sacrifice." She tugged on his hand to stop the words she could see were ready to spill off his tongue. "We'll find some other way. It might take longer. It might not be as satisfying. But we'll find another way to make them pay for everything. For everyone." Felicity's breath caught on those last words and she had to force them out past the lump in her throat.

Oliver had become a blur in front of her. Unshed tears filled her eyes and Felicity squeezed them shut in a vain attempt to keep them from falling, but they rolled down her cheeks anyway. She felt the pad of a thumb sweep them away gently and when she opened her eyes again it was to see Oliver's clear, blue eyes gazing back at her. He'd removed his sunglasses and hooked them onto the collar of his shirt.

His thumb rested heavily on her cheekbone, his knuckles brushed against her cheek, and much as had happened the night before, Felicity couldn't quite figure out how to react. She saw the uncertainty reflected on Oliver's face this time. He was staring at his hand as if it had moved entirely of its own volition, as if maybe he'd been reaching to pat her reassuringly on the shoulder and had missed completely. It had seemed a lot easier to hide in the cocoon of darkness than it did in broad daylight.

Oliver blinked. "I can't be doing this with you," he said matter-of-factly.

His words stung and Felicity pulled away from his hand abruptly. It hung in mid-air for a split second before Oliver blinked again and let it fall.

"I'm not leaving, Oliver," Felicity stated firmly, ignoring the twinge in her chest when Oliver slipped his sunglasses back on. "You can run away again, but I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay," he answered. He'd reverted back to the monotonous tone he usually adopted with anyone but her and the twinge in her chest became a stab.

"Okay?"

He didn't clarify. Instead he started the motorcycle, revved the throttle, and pulled away from the curb.

Felicity swiped angrily at her wet eyes and cheeks with the palms of her hands as she watched him drive away. She dug the heels into her eyes until she was seeing stars on the backs of her eyelids. This wasn't her. She'd promised herself that she'd never be that person again, the one who cried helplessly in the dark as the world crumbled around her.

Choosing to forgo the change of clothes, Felicity changed directions and headed to the closest Internet café. It had taken her the better part of her first day in Bangkok to find the Internet space she was most comfortable with. She'd ended up spending the better part of most of her days after that either seated at a terminal in a back corner hoping to find Oliver's virtual trail or discreetly searching the city hoping to find a physical one. Now she had new search parameters.

Waving in greeting to the young man behind the counter, Felicity handed him enough Thai baht to pay for several hours of Internet time and walked straight towards the dimly lit terminals near the back of the room. She pulled her laptop from the bag slung against her hip, plugged it in, and waited for it to power up as she drummed her fingers against the desk impatiently. When the man a few terminals over gave her a dirty look, she muttered a quick apology and then an exasperated, "finally," as the familiar glow of the screen illuminated the area around her.

Felicity began furiously typing, quickly being swept away in the familiarity of digital information and virtual spaces. She sat at the terminal for hours, only pausing to take sips from her water bottle, or to stand and stretch out the kinks in her back. Most of her searches were fruitless, but Felicity remained undeterred and persistent.

Step one, she'd decided, was to find whatever information she could on the man they'd spoken to earlier that day. Step two was to then find out who he worked for. Step three she'd worry about if she ever made it past step one which, considering that the only thing she knew about the man was what he looked like, seemed like a distinct impossibility. But she pressed on for several hours nonetheless until the daylight outside turned to shades of pinks and golds and finally into the violet blue of early night.

The young man she'd paid earlier tapped her on the shoulder and looked at her expectantly. Tempted to continue, the sharp pain in her lower back had Felicity changing her mind and she shook her head at him, packed up her laptop, and took a deep breath of the warm night air as she stepped outside and walked tiredly back to her room.

An hour later, she'd changed into her usual sleepwear and was deciding whether or not to risk another night of fitful sleep or to simply look over the files she'd downloaded earlier until exhaustion overtook her when a light knock on her door had her pausing her internal dialogue. There was only one person it could be and she'd actually doubted whether he'd be visiting her again while she remained in Thailand.

Opening the door slowly, she peeked through the crack before opening it wide to let Oliver in.

"Hi." She accompanied the quiet greeting with a gesture for him to come in and he stepped inside – slowly.

He moved stiffly and stopped just inside her room. "I have something to say."

Felicity sighed, head falling back, eyes closed in exasperation. She closed the door with a flick of her wrist. She walked around Oliver to the opposite side of the room to stand against the wall, putting as much distance as possible between them. He seemed to have developed an unnerving penchant for touching her when she stood too close and if he'd come back to convince her to leave, she figured she'd have a better chance of standing her ground against him if she weren't being distracted by his hands on her bare skin.

"Are we really going to have this argument again? Can we not and say we did because I'm tired and it's hot and I can tell you right now how it's going to go." Felicity shoved her hair back from her face, ignoring the painful tug as her fingers got caught in knots. "You're going to talk about justice and revenge, and I'm going to tell you – yet again and for what feels like the millionth time – that you're being unreasonable instead of noble. You're going to get all serious and stony and unreadable, and I'm going to refuse to listen because – wait for it – you're being unreasonable and insensible and illogical and-"

Oliver took three long steps to close the distance between them, stopping barely a hand's breadth away from her. She could feel him as solidly in front of her as the wall behind her back though he wasn't touching an inch of her. He stood so close that she was forced to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of breaking it first. Maybe the Felicity who hadn't survived the complete destruction of the Glades and who didn't wake up from nightmares every night would have looked away. She didn't know how far removed she'd become from that Felicity, but she realised that it was just far enough to hold Oliver's gaze without awkwardly fumbling after only a few seconds.

"So you have me trapped," Felicity remarked quietly yet boldly. "This is all very intimidating. What do you plan to do next?"

Oliver's eyes widened slightly at her question. The light from her window was hitting his back, his face cast in shadow, but despite their height difference Felicity was close enough to register his surprised expression at her question.

She continued, "I'm not leaving. So you can go ahead and try to see if these intimidation tactics will work, but I'm telling you now that no amount of steely glares, stony faces, or squared shoulders is going to send me running back home."

Oliver's eyes narrowed, his gaze never wavering. He slowly raised one hand and then the other, planting them both firmly against the wall on either side of her head and boxing her in. It brought him still closer and Felicity felt the crisp fabric of his pants brush against her bare legs as he leaned forward.

He broke their gaze, head shifting to one side to bring his mouth level with her ear. She felt his breath against her cheek, the rough stubble along his jaw as it brushed against her temple, and his lips soft against the tip of her ear.

Felicity shivered despite the heat. She fixed her eyes on the peeling paint of the wall by her bed, forcing herself to ignore that every breath he took brought his torso tantalisingly close to her own body.

"I didn't come here to tell you to go home." Felicity felt him breathe the words into her ear, felt the vibrations of them leave his lips, and her eyes shuttered closed.

"Why did you come here then?" She didn't think she'd done anything more than mouth the words into the stillness of the darkened room, but he must have heard her because she felt his chest fill with a deep breath that would have brought his chest flush with hers if he hadn't pulled his mouth back from her ear to come face to face with her again.

His pupils were blown wide; a deep, bottomless darkness ringed in pale blue. Her rational brain was telling her that it was a normal physiological reaction to the lack of light in the room – his eyes compensated by dilating the pupils so as to accept as much as light as possible thus making it possible to see in the dark. Other parts of her were insisting there was more to it than that. The darkness wasn't making him take harsher breaths. The darkness wasn't making his eyes flicker between her eyes and her mouth, making him blink in muted surprise every time he caught himself as though it were an action he couldn't control. It wasn't the reason why he'd pressed the tips of his fingers into the wall on either side of her head until they were white and why he'd bowed his head closer to her face – so close that she could feel his hot breath fan across her cheek. Their noses brushed and Felicity could make out the light dusting of freckles on his cheeks despite the darkness.

He paused with his mouth poised a mere fraction of an inch away from hers. Their eyes remained open as though this were a game of chicken and the test was to see who would pull away first.

When he spoke, his lips brushed against hers, the only point of contact between them. That knotted ball of emotions she'd been denying since he'd appeared in the darkness of her room the night before (since longer than that if she were to be completely honest with herself) unfurled within her and burned through her.

"Tell me to stop."

Felicity answered by closing the distance between them.

* * *

_Feedback is love._


	3. Chapter 3

_What can I say...hope this chapter doesn't disappoint and I love you all for reading and letting me know your thoughts. _

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_Chapter 3_

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For a few heart-stopping seconds, neither of them moved. Eyes open, lips pressed together, bodies still maddeningly apart; it felt like time had frozen. As though the earth had truly stopped spinning because of the sheer impossibility of what they'd just done.

Felicity could feel the solid thud and bump of her heart as it pounded inside her chest – thought that maybe, given the blanket of silence she could swear had fallen over them, she could hear Oliver's too. She wasn't given too much time to think about it, however, because only moments later Oliver tilted his head slightly to one side, slanting his mouth over hers, pressing his lip insistently against her. She gasped, her lips parted, and that was all the invitation Oliver needed to deepen the kiss.

Felicity's eyes shuddered closed as his tongue darted out to tease along the edges of her lips, tasting her, moving so frustratingly yet deliciously slowly that Felicity didn't know whether she wanted to pull him closer or take pleasure in the unfamiliar sensation of his lips pressing against hers. When his tongue finally delved into her mouth, she had to bite back a moan.

He knew. Somehow he knew that she'd swallowed the little noise as he'd wrapped his tongue around hers because he was nipping at her bottom lip with his teeth and her eyes were flying open to meet his heated gaze.

They were breathing heavily, unevenly, when Oliver pulled away just far enough for her to be able to focus on his face. Their breaths mingled, lips brushing together with each heavy pant of air as they desperately sucked in oxygen that didn't seem enough to fill their lungs in a room that suddenly felt too hot.

His lids were heavy as he looked down at her. She supposed that was lust she saw staring back at her because it made her already stilted breaths catch in her throat and her stomach clench. It made her skin feel hot and too tight for her body. It made her squeeze her legs together as her body throbbed with want in time with her thudding heart. She wondered if he'd even closed his eyes or whether he'd been watching her practically fall part under his mouth.

A thrill raced up Felicity's spine when she realised that she wanted to see him lose his iron-tight grip on control. She wanted to watch his eyes slide shut with pleasure. She wanted to hear him moan. She wanted to feel his fingers clench desperately into her skin and his muscles tremble under her own.

Without sparing it another thought, she clenched her fingers in his shirt at his waist – used it to pull him to her as she lifted herself up on her toes, pushed herself away from the wall, and brought her body flush against his. Her mouth captured his in a bruising kiss.

Suddenly it was as though time was racing to catch up with them. His hands left the wall and tangled themselves in her hair. This time, Felicity's eyes remained open long enough to watch as his lids dropped and his eyes finally closed.

Oliver framed her face with his hands and tilted her head back to deepen the kiss. Felicity's eyes slid shut on a low moan as he pulled her tongue into his mouth and she shivered. Her hands tightened their grip on his waist, pulling him even closer until there was no space between them from thigh to chest.

Her hands moved up, digging into the hard planes of his back as his lips moved from her mouth over her cheek and down to her neck. His stubble rasped over her heated skin and Felicity gasped as he nipped lightly at her neck then laved the sensitive spot with his tongue, his lips working to soothe the marks left behind by his stubble.

She wanted to tell him he didn't need to worry about that. That she loved the alternating sensations of hard and soft and the heat of his mouth against her, but she couldn't form the words with swollen lips. She used her hands instead, bringing them around, sliding them up his chest and around his neck. He didn't have enough hair to grab, but she lifted his head up off her neck, and registered his surprise before capturing his lips with her own again.

This time, she took charge. She held him to her with one hand at the nape of his neck and the other wrapped around his shoulder as her lips found his, her tongue alternating between playing against his full bottom lip and dragging against the wet heat of his own.

His hand slid heavily down her spine to press insistently against her lower back, as though he could bring her even closer. The other stayed tangled in the hair at the back of her head, holding her firmly in place against him.

There was blind desperation in the tight grip of fingers against skin, in the press of their lips together, in the shuddering breaths they swallowed with every kiss. It was a relentless onslaught of touch and taste driven by a deep and driving need to be close, to be closer, and to feel something more than the terror of memory, the fear of the unknown future, and the guilt over _everything_.

Hand tightening against his shoulder, Felicity's fingers slid against the damp fabric of Oliver's shirt and suddenly there were too many layers between them. She moved her mouth over the harsh stubble along the hard line of his jaw, lips tingling deliciously from the sensation, down his neck to bite down lightly on his collarbone. She used his light hiss of surprise to grasp his shirt by the hem and pull up. She caught the small smile at the corner of his lips as he released his hold on her just long enough for her to drag it up and over his head. She tossed it into some random corner of the room.

She'd seen him shirtless and working out far too often to be in awe of him any longer, but she'd never been in a position where she could simply reach out touch him in any way she wanted. Now that she could, she was hesitant. Mere moments ago, she'd wanted nothing more than to get his shirt off, but now she thought maybe she wanted to put it back on him.

His chest rose and fell with hard, shuddering breaths. Her fingers clutched at air as she tried to decide where to put them amidst a dizzying haze of lust. His hands settled onto her hips, his fingertips digging into her skin. She felt his mouth hot on her temple as he pressed a kiss into her hair.

Felicity closed her eyes. She was thinking far too much.

She started at his waist. His stomach muscles clenched as she lightly traced her fingertips along their lines. Hers clenched in response, sending a hot curl straight to her core and for a moment she wondered how that was possible before she dashed the thought aside and continued moving her fingers over him – then followed with her hands. She smoothed her palms down his sides and over his back. Feeling the scars there as they tugged at the smooth skin of her palms, she didn't focus on them.

She focused on him, on Oliver, his skin hot to the touch beneath her fingers and slick with sweat. She worked her hands over the solid planes of his chest, felt his breath hitch and hiss into her hair as she stroked the pads of her thumbs over his hardened nipples. Sweeping her hands over his shoulders, she curled her fingers over the nape of his neck and pulled his head down to hers.

This kiss was slow like the first, but less teasing. It was almost lazy as their mouths moved together in a more familiar rhythm. There was no mad rush forward this time, only a slow languid pace of lips over lips and tongue against tongue that stoked the fire between them until Oliver's fingers were clutching desperately at her hips and Felicity was pressing herself insistently against him.

Her neck was beginning to protest his height and her position. Mouth never leaving his, she used one hand to push against his chest, walking him backwards towards the bed. Three small steps and his legs were hitting the edge. With a hand on his shoulder she pushed him down.

They pulled apart as he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the mattress, his hands still on her hips as he pulled her gently to stand between the splay of his legs. She knew what he wanted – would have been able to tell just by the heated look on his face if he hadn't already been tugging gently at the hem of her t-shirt. Her hands fell over his, their fingers tangling together for a second before she grabbed at her shirt and yanked it over her head before she could change her mind.

Air hit her heated body, cooling her skin and drying the sweat beaded along her spine. For a flash of a moment, she wanted to pull her arms over her chest and hide, but Oliver was bringing his mouth to her stomach, his eyes on hers. All she could do was watch in fascination as his lips met the smooth plane of her stomach and shiver as his lips met her bare skin. He kissed her once then twice and the third time finished by dragging his tongue and teeth from her stomach to nip at the spot between her breasts before soothing it with an open mouthed kiss that had her dropping her head back and gasping. He continued along the same path, back and forth over her skin, alternating between licks and bites as his hands smoothed around her waist.

His hot mouth chased his callused fingers as they explored her torso in a way that had heat curling in her belly and her fingers clutching desperately at his shoulders. He paused with his hands at the sides of her breasts, didn't move until she brought her head back to meet his gaze with a look of frustrated confusion.

That small smile was back at the corner of his lips and Felicity couldn't quite resist the urge to bend down and taste it. She saw his eyes widen at that before he turned his head just enough to capture her lips. He reached up to brush the hair that had fallen like a curtain around them back over her ears before lowering his hands back down to her waist and tugging her closer.

She stepped to either side of his legs as he closed them and settled herself carefully on his lap, knees to either side of his body and pressing into the mattress beneath them. Oliver groaned into her mouth as she slowly settled her weight on top of him, the hard length of him pressing against her sensitive core. She pressed a hard kiss against his mouth as his hands pulled her hips down to hold her firmly against him.

He dragged his mouth from hers, back down over her neck, all hard stubble and soft lips, until he reached that spot between her breasts again. This time he didn't pause as he palmed her breasts in his big hands, his calluses rubbing against the sensitive flesh of her nipples. Felicity gasped and grabbed at the back of his head.

She wanted to protest when one hand left her breast, but the words died in her throat and she moaned as he replaced the roughness of his palm with the hot, wet heat of his mouth. He sucked her nipple to the roof his mouth and his fingers pinched lightly at the nipple of her other breast. Felicity was slowly being driven mad by the dueling sensations.

The heat slowly unfurling deep in her belly was leaving her throbbing between her legs and as Oliver switched his mouth over to lavish attention on her other breast, she ground down against him, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through her and Oliver muttering expletives into her skin.

Felicity couldn't help but smile up at the ceiling at his reaction. As pleasurable as his mouth on her breast had been, she wanted to hear him again. She rolled her hips against him and felt his stubble scrape against her chest as he panted heavily, his hands tightening on her hips in an attempt to stop her movements.

She pulled his head away from her chest and slanted her mouth over his in a hard, wet kiss. She'd call it sloppy if she'd thought he minded, but he returned it with equal ardour, their tongues sliding together. She resumed her rolling motions against his hips, felt him harden further beneath her and it spurred her on.

Bringing her chest flush against him, she revelled in the hard feel of his body against her softer one as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, the tips of her fingers digging into his bare back. He shot his hips upwards as she rolled down and Felicity couldn't stop the loud moan that escaped her mouth or the way her fingers scrabbled against his back.

It was suddenly all too much and not enough at the same time. She wanted more, but more of what exactly she didn't know. The pressure between her legs was becoming unbearable and the coiled heat in her stomach was threatening to burn her from the inside out.

Oliver's fingers moved from exploring the exposed skin of her torso to playing at the waistband of her shorts and it was as though a thousand bells began ringing in her ears and all she could think was that she needed him to move his hands lower.

She moaned out a strangled, "Yes," into his mouth and Oliver's hand went from the edge of her shorts into her shorts. Suddenly his hand was right where she needed it to be, pressing against the most intimate part of her in exactly the way she needed him to. His fingers slicked over her wetness, slipping through her folds, and sliding once against that small, hard bud in a way that had her shuddering against him. Her mouth slid away from his to rest against his cheek as he worked his hand against her.

He found that most tender spot again, rolling it between his fingers. Felicity clenched her jaw almost painfully to keep from releasing the noises gathering at the back of her throat as the calluses on his fingers rubbed against her in a way that had her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

Oliver latched onto her neck with his mouth, suckling at the spot behind her ear. He palmed a breast with his free hand and Felicity was left clutching tightly at his shoulders for purchase.

Between his hands and his mouth, Felicity felt like she was about to explode from the sensations warring for her attention. But when Oliver began to ease a finger into her it was like everything was being narrowed down to that single point of focus - to his heel pressing against the top of her mound as he slowly slid one long finger inside of her, curling it against her and forcing a hoarse gasp and moan and strangled "oh" from her throat.

She ground down against his hand, needing more at this point than the tease of his finger. She could feel her release like a tangible thing just beyond her reach and it was fraying at the edges of her control. She felt Oliver's small, uncontrolled thrusts underneath her hips, his gasps against her breasts as he thrust another finger into her, and there was something empowering in the knowledge that he was just as out of control as she was – that somehow her pleasure was giving him pleasure. That knowledge was enough to have Felicity pressing down hard against his hand, head thrown back, a loud moan escaping her throat as she ground down again as he thrust against her.

She could no longer tell where his mouth and hands were on her body or what part of him she was desperately holding on to. All she knew was a white hot need that was being made greater, not less, by the sharp jolts of pleasure that began between her legs. They were racing throughout every part of her body, triggering a cascade of heat that began low in her belly and ebbed and flowed with each downward grind of her hips and upward thrust of his hand, until it all suddenly coalesced into a fixed point that had her arching her back and crying out sharply, her mind a blaze of white, before collapsing against Oliver. Her forehead fell against his as she struggled to catch her breath.

As she came down, her surroundings slowly came back into focus. Oliver's fingers trailed lightly up and down her spine, the light breeze from the open window cool against her fevered skin. She hadn't noticed when he'd removed his hand from her shorts, but it now rested lightly against her side and she could feel the wetness on his fingers damp against her skin.

She should be embarrassed, she thought to herself, but she couldn't seem to muster up the energy to do it.

And she could feel him.

He was still hard beneath her. The lazy way he moved his hands on her body as she recovered belied the tension she could still feel in his shoulders and she wondered exactly what it was costing him to remain so completely immobile between her legs.

Squeezing her thighs around him lightly, she rolled her hips against him. His fingers stuttered against her back, both of his hands moving back to grip tightly at her waist. He was shaking his head against hers, his mouth opening to speak, but Felicity silenced him with a soft, slow kiss.

She wanted this. She wanted to make him feel as good as he'd made her feel and she wanted it down to her very bones. It wasn't a matter of pride. It wasn't even a matter of reciprocity. But for the first time in months, she felt light as air and if she could give that to him then she would.

Felicity pushed against his shoulders and motioned for him to move back on the bed.

His brow furrowed in confusion, but he did as she asked when she raised herself up onto her knees to give him enough space to move. He clenched his jaw hard at the loss of contact as he slid back on the small bed to rest with his back against the wall.

Felicity shimmied forward onto his lap, leaving just enough space between them for her hands to reach for the zipper of his pants. She paused, sucking in a slow breath to calm the nerves that had suddenly taken root in her stomach, before deciding she was doing that thing again where she let her mind get in the way and deftly undid the button of his pants before she could think twice.

Dragging the zipper down, she shifted her gaze away from her hands to his face. His eyes were half closed, his lips slightly parted as he struggled to take slow and measured breaths. When she freed him from his boxer-briefs, one hand delicately wrapping around the hot, hard length of him, his eyes slid shut, head falling back against the wall with a soft thud.

Oliver hissed when she grasped him more firmly and groaned when she moved her hand down the length of him and back up in one smooth stroke. She caught the fluid beading along the slit with her thumb and rubbed it around the head of him in slow circles she hoped were as maddening as his hands had been on her. He practically growled in response, his hands gripping her thighs tightly, fingers digging in before he caught himself and relaxed his grip.

She stroked him again, her eyes fixed on his face. His lips were pressed in a tight line, eyes firmly shut, and his nose flared with each heavy breath he took as she continued moving her hand in long, slow strokes, her thumb massaging the head before each downward stroke.

He was breathing hard when she bent forward to trail her tongue up his neck, tasting the salty tang of sweat on his skin. She scraped her teeth along his jaw as she smoothed her free hand up his chest and curled her fingers around his neck and into his hair.

She began to stroke him faster, harder, and his breathing came nearly to a standstill. Every muscle in his body went rock hard beneath her as his hands gripped her thighs like a lifeline. The tension made the muscles in his neck stand out as she kissed her way along them towards his ear.

"Breathe, Oliver," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "Breathe."

Felicity dragged her mouth back to his as his lips parted with a heavy gasp, swallowing the uncontrolled pants and groans as they fell from his lips. She swept her tongue against his, her hand stroking him still faster until he was tearing his mouth away from hers, his body going rigid as his head fell to her shoulder and he muffled a strangled cry against her skin as he bucked into her hand and came apart beneath her.

She stroked his back as he softened in her hand. His breathing evened out slowly and she felt him press his lips tenderly to her shoulder where his teeth had scraped against her skin. She held her breath as his hands eased their grip on her thighs and he massaged the flesh with gentle circles of his palms.

They'd cleared the fog between them and with clarity came a newfound sense of the reality in which they found themselves. Felicity closed her eyes and struggled not to think – tried to focus on his hands and his mouth, on his body relaxed and loose beneath her and on her own.

Between the feel of his lips pressed lightly against her shoulder and his hands kneading the tender flesh of her bare thighs, Felicity could feel arousal building low and slow in her once more. Only this time, instead of it making her bold, her stomach was twisting itself into knots and her heart was pounding hard in her chest.

Lifting herself up off his lap slowly, she avoided his eyes as she straightened and stood on shaky legs. Embarrassed that he had to reach out and steady her with a hand on her hip, she pulled away from him, turning quickly to pad softly over to the small bathroom.

She flicked on the light, blinking her eyes furiously at the sudden brightness, and grabbed blindly for the sink. Turning the faucet on to full blast, she let the cold water run over her hands before she leaned down and splashed it over her face.

Bracing her hands on the edge of the sink, she allowed the tap to run and looked at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed and she pressed her hands to her face in effort to cool them. Her eyes were heavy, bright blue peeking out from beneath her eyelids. They were rimmed in red and she itched to take out the contacts she'd been wearing for far too long, but she'd left her glasses in the bedroom and the prospect of going back for them made her squirm.

Her hair, already frizzy from the humidity, was wild and untamed around her head. Felicity moved a hand from her cheek to her mouth, pressing her fingers over her swollen lips as they formed a silent, "oh" and her eyes widened as she took in her appearance.

Whatever mental haze had fallen over that had propelled her to kiss Oliver was beginning to clear and with that renewed mental clarity came the sharp bite of panic. She had just, for all intents and purposes, slept with Oliver Queen and that thought was enough to have her heart practically clamouring to escape the confines of her chest.

Well, they hadn't exactly slept together, chimed a voice inside her head. Felicity clung to that important technicality and squeezed her eyes shut against the images that had begun to play themselves in her mind to remind her of what had just happened between them.

No, they'd just gotten each other off, declared another voice and the panic in her stomach rose another degree. A particularly vivid image played itself in her mind that had her body warring between arousal and mortification.

"Earlier," Oliver appeared behind her, shoulder resting against the door frame, "you'd asked me why I'd come to see you."

Felicity's eyes snapped open to look at his reflection in the mirror. He looked much more comfortable half naked, with his pants still undone and slung low on his hips than she felt shirtless with her hair a mess around her face. He caught her staring at him and she felt heat flood her face, knew she was turning bright red and ducked her head back down to splash more cold water on her face.

"Yeah," she responded as she turned to face him. Self-conscious and unable to meet his eyes, she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the sink. "I did."

"To talk," he said gently. "I came to talk to you."

"Oh." Felicity gnawed her lower lip nervously between her teeth.

"You make it impossible." Oliver shook his head, eyes flickering towards the ceiling helplessly before coming back to find hers.

She reluctantly met his gaze. "Sorry?"

"I don't want you to apologise for anything," he echoed her words from last night back to her and she couldn't help but smile at him despite her discomfort.

Her chest felt less tight than it had a moment ago and when he returned her smile, she was finally able to take a deep breath. He seemed to relax as well.

Oliver glanced down at himself a moment later, two spots of colour rising high on his cheeks and it was so unexpected a sight from him that it was enough to ease the rising tide of panic.

Gesturing towards the sink, he stepped into the bathroom and Felicity stepped to the side and around him, awkwardly reaching for a towel while still trying to use her arms as a shield.

"I'll just," she held the small towel out to him, "give you some privacy to take care of," she waved a hand between them, "everything. Just toss it in the shower stall when you're done. You know…" She closed her eyes and mentally slapped herself.

When she opened them, Oliver had the towel to his stomach and his head cocked at her in the mirror.

"Not _you know_ as in you know because you've done this before. Although," she added quickly as she stepped backwards through the doorframe and back into her bedroom, one hand on the door knob, "if you had, and I'm not assuming in either direction, that's fine because why wouldn't it be fine? I just meant _you know_ as in-" she closed the door on herself before she could finish and let her head fall forward with a thud.

Wincing because he'd probably heard that, she pushed herself away from the door and, with a deep breath, turned to begin the hunt for her discarded t-shirt. A minute into the fruitless search, she gave up, blindly grabbed the closest one she could find, and pulled it over her head.

As she slipped it on, Felicity realised her mistake. She could smell Oliver in the fabric – the salty tang of his sweat, the pepper she'd tasted on his skin, and something softer that reminded her of warm rain and grass.

The voice of reason inside of her was telling her, in no uncertain terms, to take it off, but she was sliding her arms into the shirt and watching it fall over her thighs before she could stop herself.

The sound of running water stopped and the light from the bathroom spilled over the floor and into the room. Felicity spun around as Oliver stepped out, leaving the light on and the door open behind him.

Typically, she wasn't the sort of person who ever found herself at a loss for words. Granted, sometimes the words that came out of her would have been better off left unsaid, but the fact of the matter was that 'speechless' wasn't necessarily an apt descriptor Felicity would have ever chosen to use for herself. But neither had she ever found herself in a situation quite like this before.

Oliver Queen stood half-naked in her darkened room and this wasn't a scenario that was playing itself out within the safe confines of her fantasies. Under any other circumstances and with any other person, it would have been a cause for celebration, but while she'd long ago accepted the fact that she was powerless to stop her subconscious, she'd also developed a friendship with Oliver that she'd never realistically expected to turn into anything more.

This was more.

Oliver's eyes were following her movements as her hands twisted themselves into knots in his shirt. He'd never be the one to break the silence that had fallen between, but no words were coming to her. Not even the wrong words. As her hands continued to twist in time with her insides and Oliver stood stone-still across from her resolutely avoiding eye contact, Felicity would have settled for even the wrong words to come spilling out.

Mercifully, her phone chose that moment to ring, the sharp tone biting into the silence and all but making her sigh with relief. She made a dash for the bag she'd left slung over a wooden chair and reached around inside of it until her hand found the phone.

She glanced at the display and frowned as she swiped a finger across the screen to answer the call. "Diggle?"

"She answers her phone. It's a miracle." Diggle's dry tone sounded in her ear and Felicity couldn't help but smile at the sound of his voice.

"I've been busy."

Oliver leaned against the dresser, arms crossed over his bare chest as he listened to her half of the conversation. One eyebrow rose at her response and Felicity turned away from him as she felt her cheeks flood with heat.

"Have you found him?"

Felicity resisted the urge to fidget with her shirt. "Yes. I've found him."

Diggle released a loud puff of air into the phone, the noise crackling in her ear and she had to pull it away with a wince. Oliver made a noise of complaint behind her and she waved her hand above her head to silence him.

"Good. There's something you both need to see."

Frowning, Felicity pulled her phone away to glance at the time on the display. "It's almost midnight, Diggle."

"Bangkok's like New York – the city that never sleeps. You have a TV in your room?"

Felicity scoffed, "I barely have room in my room."

Chuckling, Diggle replied, "Well, get to a TV and find an international news station. PGT is making a move and I think Oliver's going to want to see this for himself."

"Don't bother elaborating or anything," Felicity tossed back, her words lightly laced with sarcasm. She turned back around, pointedly ignoring the way Oliver's eyes flickered up from her bare legs to her face as she walked towards him.

She could practically hear Diggle shrugging over the phone. "It's nothing we weren't expecting, but if Oliver hasn't been keeping up with the news coming out of Starling City then this'll be something of a surprise."

Diggle was trying hard to keep his tone neutral, but Felicity detected the note of anger in his voice. She couldn't exactly blame him, so she shrugged it off as they said their goodbyes and she dropped her phone onto the dresser at Oliver's side.

Looking between it and her, he waited patiently for her to offer up an explanation.

Felicity took a deep breath before raising her eyes to his and pushing all the other thoughts racing on a mad loop through her head aside. "Do you happen to have any immediate plans involving shooting arrows into unsuspecting criminals that you can't change?"

Oliver's lips quirked up at the corners. "Not exactly."

"Good." Felicity moved to find a pair of pants she could actually wear out in public.

Oliver stopped her with a hand to her elbow and gently pulled her back to face him. "Want to tell me what this is about?"

She cocked her head at him in thought. "I don't think I will," she answered. "You'll find out soon enough and the suspense will be good for you."

Pulling away from him easily, she rubbed absently at where the contact had made the skin on her arm prickle not uncomfortably.

"Felicity?" His voice chased after her as she made quick work of changing out of her shorts, ridiculously thankful, all things considered, that the shirt was long enough to obscure his view of her.

Not that he was looking, she noticed. He was keeping his eyes politely averted towards the window and there was something strangely comforting and calming about that.

Head turning to look at him over her shoulder, she raised her eyebrows at him in reply, humming softly in acknowledgement.

"It's not that I'm not enjoying the look, but I think I'm going to need my shirt back."

* * *

_I accept love in the form of feedback and cake..._


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